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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790853">Lyin' (isn't better than silence)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyrage/pseuds/crankyrage'>crankyrage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:22:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790853</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyrage/pseuds/crankyrage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack shakes his head, “I know I don’t have to tell you that the shit we do is hard, and it takes more than a talented attorney to do what we do. Not everyone can stomach it. Coming here isn’t going to remind anyone about justice – it’s going to break his notions of what criminal law is.”</p><p>“John thinks he can handle it, and anyway, sometimes people need to be broken, Eichs.”</p><p>“I’m not responsible for breaking anyone, okay?”</p><p>“Sorry, that was the wrong thing to say. Just – work with him? He’s coming next week, and I need you to lead, okay? This is what you do, Jack. Do it.”</p><p> </p><p>(Or, Jack's a criminal defense attorney whose life work involves serving low-income defendants, and Connor's an Ivy League grad who's too good at his job to know what he's doing)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lyin' (isn't better than silence)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This started out as an idea -- what kind of lawyer would Jack Eichel be? Apparently, I've been watching way too much true crime stuff during the quarantine. But, once I started I couldn't stop, and here's what I have 14k words later.</p><p>Fair warning that I get a little hand-wavy about the timeline to file and argue in front of SCOTUS and other specific legal details. Also, this fic contains a character that has a very strong point of view of the criminal justice system and has a value system that perhaps many of you don't agree with. I fully understand that, and <b>if you or someone close to you has been a victim of a violent crime, this may bring forth many negative feelings, and so I would just proceed with caution.</b> I'd also like to point out that I don't endorse any of these opinions, but I do think that if you live in the U.S. these are conversations that real-life people are having every day, and everyone's opinion on them, no matter what side they are on are important. </p><p>I hope you all enjoy!</p><p>Title taken from "You were good to me" by Chelsea Cutter and Jeremy Zucker</p><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing and mean no harm by using any real-life person or their likeness; this is simply a work of fiction for entertainment value.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack’s had a shit day. He got pulled over on his way out to Auburn, and the cop was not feeling the three-piece suit he’d had on. He made a few off-handed comments and took his sweet time running Jack’s license and writing the ticket. Jack still doesn’t know if he knew who he was, or if he was just being an ass, but Jack had already had a full day by the time he pulled in front of the prison, just to find out that they’d gone on lockdown, and he wouldn’t be able to see any of his clients, even though Mr. Elliot had a hearing on Monday that Jack desperately needed to prep him for. Jack's been through this enough to know he can’t argue with any of the COs to get his way on this one, so he leaves documents for Mr. Elliot to look over with one of the front desk guards and drives the two hours back to Buffalo with the radio turned up so he can scream it out for a while. It goes to say, then, that he’s not in the mood to deal with any more bullshit when he gets back to the office.</p><p>Matt’s spread himself out in the conference room going over the discovery documents for probably the 30<sup>th</sup> time for his case that’s up in front of the NY Court of Appeals next week. His new investigation left him buried in documents, and Jack knows he has enough to get his guy a new trial, but that doesn’t mean the Court’s gonna go his way.</p><p>He knows Jeff and Sam headed down to the city to knock on some doors for a case they’ve been working on, and he feels like something’s finally gone right this day, for him to be able to sit at his desk and get some peace and quiet.</p><p>He’s working on the reading through the BIO of the <em>Thompson</em> cert petition when Matt emerges from the conference room a few hours later looking bleary-eyed and exhausted. “Eichs? Damn, that was a fast visit. I didn’t expect to see you today.”</p><p>Jack sighs raking a hand through his curls, “Lockdown, again.”</p><p>“Ugh,” Matt replies sympathetically, “that sucks.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jack shakes his head trying not to rile himself up about it, “Mr. Elliot’s hearing’s supposed to go on Monday, and this was my only chance to meet with him in person. I hope they get phone privileges back tomorrow or it’s not gonna be good—”</p><p>“But, I mean you got the right kind of evidence for the Board—”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter if he doesn’t have a solid narrative. I mean the law’s on our side, but that never really seals the deal, y’know?”</p><p>Matt nods, and Jack knows he knows more than anyone. He’s been in the game for over 15 years now and has seen the cruelty of the criminal justice system play out over and over again.</p><p>“Hey, there’s actually something I want to talk to you about—”</p><p>“I don’t think I can take any more clients; I wish but I’m just—” Jack starts.</p><p>Matt cuts him off, “You definitely can’t take anymore clients. I know you barely sleep as it is. Actually it’s kind of the opposite, John called me last week and—”</p><p>“Tavares?”</p><p>“Yeah—”</p><p>Jack scoffs and rolls his eyes. John Tavares was a sell-out as far as Jack was concerned. He and Matt graduated from NYU and hung their own shingle immediately after they were admitted to the New York Bar. Matt wrote the briefs, and John argued the cases, and they were able to help 100s of low-income people in New York City have a fighting chance in court. That was until John moved back home to Toronto and got a cushy job as a white-collar defense attorney at a V20 firm. In Jack's opinion, John used those people to get trial experience and build his resume so that he could fuck off and get paid – defend the rich so that they continue to get slaps on the wrist, while the poor continue to get fucked with LWOP.</p><p>“Anyway,” Matt responds rolling his eyes, “John’s got this kid at the Edmonton office of his firm. Real talented young attorney. He won a case in front of the Supreme Court of Canada a few years ago, youngest person ever to argue in front of them. Anyway, John thinks the kid needs a mental break from y’know the billable hours and shit to remind himself why he wanted to be a lawyer? I’m not sure what the full situation is, but the kid’s just burnt out.”</p><p>“Okay—” Jack does not like where this is going.</p><p>“Listen, Jack if <em>Thompson</em> goes to the Supreme Court—”</p><p>“They just filed the Brief in Opposition—”</p><p>“Jack, Jacko – everyone knows you’ve been working your ass off since you got here, okay? When’s the last time you took a day off? Or had a date? Or just relaxed?”</p><p>“I have clients—”</p><p>“Who need you, I know. But this kid is good. He can help you with your case load, so that you can win at the Supreme Court but also get more than two hours a sleep every four days, okay?”</p><p>“Is he even licensed in the U.S.?”</p><p>“He went to Penn, graduated number one in his class, and took the UBE in Pennsylvania. John said he applied to transfer his score and submitted his shit to the New York Bar.”</p><p>“Why? Is this Tavares or does this kid actually believe in what we do?”</p><p>Matt sighs holding up his hands in surrender. “I know you hate John, but he still, despite working for a firm, he does 1000s of pro bono hours each year. You know he continues to partner with us on cases, Jack. So, if he thinks that there can be a mutual benefit from this kid spending a few months down here, I choose to trust him.”</p><p>Jack shakes his head, “I know I don’t have to tell you that the shit we do is hard, and it takes more than a talented attorney to do what we do. Not everyone can stomach it. Coming here isn’t going to remind anyone about justice – it’s going to break his notions of what criminal law is.”</p><p>“John thinks he can handle it, and anyway, sometimes people need to be broken, Eichs.”</p><p>“I’m not responsible for breaking anyone, okay?”</p><p>“Sorry, that was the wrong thing to say. Just – work with him? He’s coming next week, and I need you to lead, okay? This is what you do, Jack. Do it.”</p><p>Jack deflates a little anger dissipating. Matt rarely asks him for anything, even though he’s the reason why Jack can do what he does. He found Jack at a career fair when he was still at BU Law, and he mentored him. Matt turned that stubborn kid into an eloquent speaker, a hot head into a cool, collected professional. Matt allowed him to do what he needed to do and take the cases he wanted and run with them. Most senior attorneys, even at non-profits like theirs, don’t let first years do what Matt let him. Matt trusting him like that – it sounds stupid, but it really set Jack down the right path – to be that person, to be the attorney that Matt thought he could be. He owes him a lot.</p><p>Matt lets it drop and goes back into the conference room to keep preparing for his appeal, and Jack all but forgets about it and goes back to his work.</p><p>On Monday, Mr. Elliot’s parole hearing goes to shit. Parole hearings are tricky because no matter what information you have in front of the Board telling them that your client has taken his rehabilitation seriously, they can still deny parole based on the circumstances of the crime. It doesn’t help that the victim and the victim’s family get to present in front of the Board, as well. Mr. Elliot, while Jack knows him as a sweet older man, who frankly after spending 25 years in prison starting at Riker’s when he was 18, has lost most of the fight out of him. But, anyone will tend to get defensive when they’re called a monster to their face, and when they say that they’ve changed, and everyone just wants to remember one night in the 1980s.</p><p>He doesn’t get paroled for the second time in 5 years, and even though Jack’s dealt with these types of disappointments over and over again, it never becomes easier to look someone in the eye and tell them that you don’t know when they’re going to be free.</p><p>“Mrs. Elliot, it’s uh, Jack – Eichel—” he swallows slowly his phone shakes a bit where it’s mounted over the air vent in his car. “Doris, they denied our request, again. I’m so sorry—”</p><p>Mr. Elliot’s wife Jack knows to not be a crier but her voice is wet when she responds, “Oh honey, I know you did your best—”</p><p>“I’m not going to stop fighting for your husband, ma’am,” he continues because it’s true. “As soon as he’s up again, we’ll keep at ‘em. Throw them enough of the truth, and eventually they’ll fold.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she responds slowly. “You’re a good boy, and Ronald and I are blessed to have you working for him.”</p><p>Jack takes a deep steadying breath, “You’re welcome, ma’am.”</p><p>The rest of the ride back to Buffalo Jack tries to distract himself. He thinks about the strategies in his other cases and makes a mental checklist for the brief he’s writing that’s due next week. He calls Jessie for a while so she can talk his ear off about the kids and when he’s coming to visit. It helps, but he still sometimes feels so helpless – when he’s done everything that he can and his client is still sitting in a prison cell. It never feels like he’s done enough.</p><p>The week goes on. He attends four arraignments, files two response briefs, and helps Sam out with a post-conviction investigation that he hits a deadend on.</p><p>On Thursday morning, he opens the office, as he always does at 5:30AM. He’s in his favorite suit, the suit he was wearing when he got his first client acquitted. At 17, Billy McGuire wasn’t even that much younger than Jack was at the time. He was a nice kid with a clear intellectual disability, who got mixed up with the wrong crowd. So, when things went bad one night and a gun went off and someone got killed, it was easy to blame Billy. Jack was new to the game and didn’t have the bullshit meter that he has now, after years of working in public interest. But, there was something about Billy; Jack just knew he was telling him the truth. The kid didn’t have the wherewithal to even commit the crime.</p><p>Some senior and supervising attorneys tell the new hires that it’s important not to get too close to the case, on a personal level. Don’t get all of your own emotions mixed up with the outcome. Matt never told him that. The thing is, with the work they do, you meet these guys’ families. You visit their homes. You learn all about them: where they were raised, how they were raised, and who they were and who they have become. You can’t help but get emotionally invested. You’re not just litigating over a sum of money or a wronged taxed organization or a merger gone awry, you’re fighting for someone’s freedom – for someone’s life. It’s just inherently personal.</p><p>So, when the foreperson read the verdict in Billy’s case, acquitting him of all the charges, it was one of the best days of Jack’s life. That’s why he does what he does. So, people like Billy who don’t have the resources to fight get a chance to make it out.</p><p>He’s meeting with the DA in the afternoon on a case that he really thinks needs to get thrown out, but she’s been dragging her heels. She’s only been in office for six months, but she and Jack have already been well acquainted. They haven’t spared in court yet, but Sam says she’s a trigger happy, convict, convict, convict kind of DA, how enlightened. So, he needs all the luck he can get to bring his client home.</p><p>Someone buzzes at the door at about 8:00AM, which is odd. None of the support staff start before 9:00, so he gets up to see whoever’s trying to sell him something at the crack of dawn.</p><p>When he gets to the door there’s a guy in probably the most expensive suit he’s ever seen. Seriously, the thing probably cost more than his rent. He's shifting from foot to foot looking very apprehensive. He’s got this sandy brown hair perfectly quaffed in kind of a Erik Von Detten in 1997 kind of way, and while he looks vaguely familiar, Jack doesn't know where he knows him from.</p><p>“Look man no solicitors kind of goes without saying—” Jack starts.</p><p>The guy looks startled but trudges on, “Is uh Matt Moulson, here?”</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes. Of course he wants to speak to the boss. “Dude, we’re lawyers and status calls start at the courthouse at 9:30. He won’t be in until after that. But, we’re a non-for-profit. We only represent indigent people.”</p><p>“No, I’m uh – My name’s Connor McDavid. Today’s my first day – did Matt tell you I was coming? I’m supposed to be working for—”</p><p>Jack holds his hand up because he can’t take this guy’s rambling anymore. He thinks Tavares gave this kid’s public speaking abilities a little too much credence. But he knows his fucking name, of course he does. They mooted against each other at Nationals as 2Ls and 3Ls, and McDavid won the whole thing their 3L year. It’s surprising that he can’t seem to put together a sentence now.</p><p>“I remember. Come in. Macy, our office administrator, will be in at 9:00, and she’ll get everything set up for you.”</p><p>“Sorry for being so early. It’s just a habit, I guess. I like to jumpstart the day right away,” McDavid apologized profusely as Jack leads him into the office. Damn, this guys really a Canadian.</p><p>Jack shrugs walking towards his office, “I mean you’re the one who has to wait. You can take a seat in the conference room if you want. I’m sure Mace will give you the full tour, but the break room’s down the hall to the left. I made a full pot and it should still be warm, if you want coffee. I’ll be in my office. I have a meeting this afternoon I need to prep for.”</p><p>Connor nods heading towards where Jack pointed out the conference room. “Thanks, Jack.”</p><p>Jack likes to think that maybe he was good enough at moot court to be remembered too.</p><p>When he gets back from his meeting the whole crew is there, sitting around talking to McDavid.</p><p>“Jack!” Jeff says as he shuts the door behind him. “How’d it go with Adams?”</p><p>Jack sighs “She’s going to be a tough one to crack. She’s going to go ahead with the grand jury with a bunch of bullshit circumstantial—” he cuts himself off. “I get these guys are under a lot of pressure with the high crime rate, but this shit? It’s not justice.”</p><p>Matt claps him on the back, “You’ll get her in court.”</p><p>Jack shakes his head thinking about his client sitting in a jail cell for the next god knows however many months until his trial. “I shouldn’t have to.”</p><p>Jack’s not in the mood to socialize, so he just trails into his office and shuts the door after him. It’s days like today that he thinks doing contracts for Fortune 500 companies wouldn’t be that bad.</p><p>“Hey,” Sam says knocking on his door a little while later. Jack has a transcript open from a trial for a direct appeal he’s working on, but he hasn’t done much with it.</p><p>“What’s up, Sammy?” he asks as Sam shuts the door behind him.</p><p>“Just wanted to see how you’re doing, man.”</p><p>Jack shrugs, “It’s just one of those days, y’know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sam agrees sitting in the chair across from Jack’s desk. “I’ve had more of those than I can count.”</p><p>Sam came over from the PD’s office the same year Jack graduated from law school and started working at the Center. They’ve grown up together, here. And while Jack may be the more lively, ostentatious one – the one they write about in the local papers – Sam, while understated, is one of the best criminal defense attorneys in New York. He’s argued multiple times in front of the New York’s Court Appeals, the court of last resort, and has won several cases in front of the Second Circuit. But, more than that, he’s Jack’s best friend, his right-hand man, and sometimes the only person who really sees Jack for who he really is, besides Matt, maybe.</p><p>“You meet John’s guy McDavid earlier? Y’know we went to the same undergrad? Small world, right?”</p><p>Jack laughs cracking a smile for the first time all day, “So do all Canadians know each other, or?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Sam laughs. “He said you guys mooted against each other in law school. So, even smaller world than I thought, I guess.”</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes albeit still fond, “Nice to know that the kid who won Nationals grew up to be another sell-out.”</p><p>That makes Sam pause, “C’mon, Jack, you don’t even know the kid, alright? You don’t know why he made the choices he made, and even if it’s all about money, there’s actually not anything wrong with that. He’s entitled to make that choice.”</p><p>Jack disagrees but doesn’t really want to rehash an old argument. “As long as he does good work, I guess my opinion doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Well Matty said John’s given him only glowing reviews. Great writer, but even better oral arguer. He’s less theatrical than you or Matt, I guess. But more like John, measured, exact, and to the point. Precise.”</p><p>“I thought guys at firms were buried under research until they’re like 5<sup>th</sup> years.”</p><p>“Not McDavid, apparently. I guess when you’re that good, you earn your stripes early.”</p><p>At that moment McDavid peeks his head into Jack’s office. He’s lost the jacket, thank god, but his shoes for sure cost more than Jack’s entire wardrobe (which in Jack’s opinion is thrifty yet nice). “Hey, guys I’m heading out for the night. But, it was nice to meet you both, again, I guess, and I’m looking forward to working with you.”</p><p>Sam smiles waving a little lamely, “Nice to see you again, Connor. It should be a fun few months!”</p><p>Jack bites his tongue from laughing at Sam’s reply because they can say a lot of positive things about their jobs, they’re rewarding for sure, but fun? Not on his life. “Good to see you, McDavid. Oh, and maybe tomorrow don’t wear a suit that costs more than all of our cars put together, okay?”</p><p>McDavid turns bright red and stutters for a minute before he flees.</p><p>“Eichs, really?” Sam laughs.</p><p>“What if he’s going to slum it here in public interest, he’s gotta start looking the part.”</p><p>Sam scoffs, “Says the winner of the Western New York’s Bar Association Fashionista of the Year Award.”</p><p>Jack laughs and rolls his eyes, “That’s not a real award.”</p><p>“Of course it’s not or you would have won it several years running.”</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good in the courtroom. It brings me confidence, alright? And I buy nice suits that don’t break the bank.”</p><p>Sam laughs holding up his hands mock-surrender. “I get it, man. It’s your thing.”</p><p>Jack’s life goes on. He works and sometimes goes home to sleep and change his clothes and then works some more. Having McDavid around is fine, Jack guesses. It’s nice to have someone else with experience to dump work on when he has hearings and appearances that conflict, and someone to bounce ideas off of in the drafting and arguing stages.</p><p>The guy himself is fine. He’s quiet though, quieter than Sam and Jeff put together. He’s not someone Jack wants to hang out with outside of work, if he even really did that and had the time, but he’s a pretty good attorney.</p><p>Jack takes Connor with him to Auburn about four weeks into Connor being at Center. At this point, Connor’s gotten some of his own clients that overflowed from Jack and some of the other staff attorneys, and he needs to start meeting with them on his own.</p><p>“I’ve never been to a prison before,” Connor admits on the way out. “Damn this is out here, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah, the prison is the only thing in the town of Auburn, really. It supports its entire economy,” Jack tells him speeding up to pass a semi.</p><p>Connor hesitates as Jack walks towards the front gate, and Jack doesn’t have time for this.</p><p>“Listen, man, it’s not going to be a fun experience. The COs don’t really love defense attorneys and definitely will talk shit about us as we leave. But, they’re also just doing their jobs. So just follow their instructions, and you’ll be good. After the first few times, it becomes automatic. It’s not like they’re going to show you the old electric chair or something. Only, I have seen them show law students that, so it’s kinda fucked—”</p><p>“Got it. I got it. I’ll be fine.”</p><p> “Chill, McDavid, seriously. They can smell a newbie. That goes for your clients too. They want to see that you’re in control.”</p><p>“I’ve done this before, Eichs,” Connor says pointedly.</p><p>“Not like this, you haven’t.”</p><p>Jack finishes meeting with his clients before Connor does, so he just shoots the shit a little with the front gate guards and when he’s processed out, he checks his phone. He has a message from Matt.</p><p><em>Call me ASAP</em>.</p><p>Jack doesn’t know if that’s a good thing.</p><p>“SCOTUS accepted your cert petition, Jack. Fuck, Dean may get out!” Matt all but yells as soon as he picks up Jack's call.</p><p>“Fuck, when?”</p><p>“Macy got the e-mail this morning. Holy shit, Jacko. We could change substantive case law for our guys.”</p><p>“Holy shit – you know how many attorneys, amazing, fantastic attorneys never get an opportunity like this – Dean – fuck I have to call Dean. Holy shit.”</p><p>“Congrats, Jack. I know this is just the first step on a long road, but just enjoy this feeling for a while, okay?”</p><p>When Connor emerges through the stone columns, Jack all but jumps on him.  “They accepted our cert petition, shit. Connor, Dean’s going to finally get his day in court!”</p><p>Connor laughs and hugs Jack back looking startled and tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What?”</p><p>“Have you heard me talk around the office about <em>Thompson</em>? I’ve been on this case since my first year. Dean was one of my first clients, and he’s – he’s truly an amazing guy. He’s been in since he was 16, and shit the Supreme Court is going to hear our case.”</p><p>“Holy shit, Jack. That’s amazing!” Connor exclaims tumbling back into him. “That’s huge!”</p><p>Jack rides that elation for a while, and even though he has tough moments – almost losing it on DA Adams at an arraignment the next week, he’s really never been in a better mood. Because no matter what happens in the case, Dean’s being heard. They’re being heard. And, really that’s the first step in continuing to make criminal justice reform.</p><p>Connor, on the other hand, seems to be struggling. Jack’s been trying to help him out. But, no one can really prepare someone for the first time they have to see their 22 year-old client go to prison for life. Especially not someone like McDavid, who from Jack’s gathered, doesn’t really have much experience losing anything.</p><p>They’re the last two at the office on Friday night. Jack working on questions for witness interviews for a case he and Jeff are going to the city next week on, and Connor working on what Jack thinks is a brief, but he’s barely seen Connor typing each time he passes his office.</p><p>Maybe it’s his general good mood, or that he knows what Connor must be feeling: all that frustration. He gave the kid the best defense that he could, but sometimes it’s not enough. No mercy. But, he goes into his liquor cabinet and gets out a bottle of scotch that Sam gave him for one of his latest birthdays and pours two sizable glasses and heads across the hall.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jack says when handing Connor the glass and sitting across from him. “It looked like you needed that.”</p><p>Connor shrugs but accepts the glass taking a long sip. “I—” he starts swallowing. “I don’t know what I expected coming down here to do this work. I knew it would be challenging, sure, legally. But, I didn’t realize it would be so – hard? God, that sounds dumb, McDavid,” he says almost to himself.</p><p>Jack takes a sip giving him time to gather his thoughts. He knows he needs to say the right thing here. “It doesn’t get easier. But, it’s like I get to do work everyday that I know positively impacts some of the most vulnerable people’s lives, and even when it’s not enough, I know I was there for them.”</p><p>“I just—” Connor starts and stops. “I thought – maybe I was naïve. I thought I understood where I stood: that people who break the law, especially with such a disregard for human decency deserve to face the consequences for that. Y’know, that kid that I fought so hard for killed two people in fucking broad daylight, and I just – I looked the families of the victims in the eyes, and I saw that pain, and I just – how do I rectify that with wanting the judge to see that my kid isn’t all bad, y’know?”</p><p>Jack doesn’t know what to say to that, but he thinks it’s probably something that a lot of rich kids that haven’t seen what gangs and poverty do to people have to grapple with. Jack assumes in his Ivy League bubble, Connor never had to think about where the people who rape and murder come from, that they’re people who have families and their own demons. They’re human.</p><p>“It’s not black and white, Connor. You can have respect for the victims and still—”</p><p>“But, can you? Do you? Don’t you think it’s naïve of us to want to give credence to our emotions in these situations? It’s so naïve to think ‘oh this poor kid, grew up in the streets and had all these issues’ but the fact remains he took two lives, Jack. Those kids are gone – they don’t exist because of my client, and how can I represent that?”</p><p>Jack can feel himself get a little worked up because this is what he was afraid of when Tavares sent them his Richie Rich project. This kid doesn’t have the stomach nor the compassion to do what they do. “What did you want when you agreed to come here and work with us?”</p><p>“I dunno – I just—” he stops looking away from Jack. “I really just – I needed to feel something again, y’know?”</p><p>“So what – what these poor kids do doesn’t make you feel the right thing?”</p><p>“No, I just—” he cuts himself off again swirling the amber liquid around in the glass. “Look, it’s easy for you – you’re a bleeding heart – you feel for these guys – it oozes out of you. But, I’m a realist—”</p><p>“You don’t think I’m a fucking realist?” Jack spits back in disbelief. He can’t believe how quickly this conversation got out of hand. “I was a gay kid from South Boston, it doesn’t get much realer than that. I believe in those kids because I could have easily been one of them, not because I’m a naïve, bleeding heart.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean—”</p><p>“No, you did mean it. I’m passionate because this is what I do. This job, my clients, are my life.”</p><p>“But, why? You got out. You got a full ride to BU Law. You don’t need to do this.”</p><p>“Well that’s where you’re wrong. I need to do this. This is what I’m meant to do,” Jack tries to explain lowering his voice slightly because he knows he needs to calm the fuck down before he says something that he can’t take back.</p><p>“I – when I was in college at Michigan my – my – my best friend and boyfriend was murdered. We – we grew up together. I was his friend from the other side of the tracks, and he took care of me, and we got out. He helped me get out, and go to college, and fuck – he was the fucking love of my life, and he was taken from me at 20 years-old by some strung-out homeless man who needed drug money, and Noah always had nice shoes and nice clothes – and the guy just thought he had money. He was stabbed and left for dead, Connor.</p><p>And, I was so fucking angry. I become obsessed with the case. I spent the 18-months leading up to the trial reading every update, everything that was filed in the case that was in public record, and I never really allowed myself to grieve because I thought how could I let Noah go without this guy being put behind bars?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t—”</p><p>Jack waves his hand abruptly, “And then the first day of the trial came, and I was right there in the gallery next to Noah’s parents ready to glare daggers at this guy who stole my boyfriend and left him to die in an Ann Arbor street. But, then when I saw him I realized he was just a person. He didn’t look menacing at all. And, his PD was barely awake during the entire thing. Didn’t even give the guy a half-hearted effort. It was horrible. And, so a few days into the trial I feel terrible for this guy, and I’m angry at myself for feeling bad for him because he killed Noah. He killed him.</p><p>I do this work because I believe in it, because that day when they read the verdict I started crying not only because I finally accepted that my boyfriend was dead, but because this guy’s life was over, too. Sending this guy away for life wasn’t going to bring Noah back. It wasn’t a net positive. And, fuck – no one cared if this guy lived or died. It was horrible. It’s burned in my mind forever.”</p><p>“But—” Connor starts. “Okay, wow, I wasn’t expecting— How were you able to forgive him though. How were you able to get that perspective?”</p><p>“It’s not about forgiveness, McDavid. It’s about the fact that everyone deserves to be treated like they matter. Everyone, no matter what they did, deserves to have someone to defend them. Everyone deserves to be seen, and no one deserves to be defined simply by the worst thing they’ve ever done.”</p><p>Connor doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but when he does look up and lock eyes with Jack, Jack can see the unshed tears shining in his eyes. “I – y’know when we were in law school, people would talk all about your mooting style. Saying, y’know that kid from BU’s unpolished, but he just has something that you can’t teach. Not the most technical with the law, but he cut the bullshit with a knife and get to the heart of the issue. I always envied that.”</p><p>Jack reels back slightly because he just has no words for the abrupt shift in conversation, “But, you won Nationals. I didn’t even make it to semis.”</p><p>Connor sighs blowing out a long breath, “Did I though? Look at us now.”</p><p>It’s kind of weird for a while after that. Connor’s always been a quiet guy, and temporary at that, but Jack keeps catching him looking like he’s a puzzle he’s still yet to solve.</p><p>The new brief for <em>Thompson</em> starts to slowly take over his life as the filing date draws nearer and nearer. Look, Jack knows he’s a proud man, sometimes to his detriment. But, he’s drowning here. Between all his other cases and the trial he has going in two weeks, he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to keep working on the brief for 9 hours a day.</p><p>So, he finally admits defeat, and knows he has to ask someone for help.</p><p>Matt blinks at him when he suggests splitting some of the work, “Wow, okay, but this is your baby, Jack. You’ve been with Dean for years—”</p><p>“I know, and even though I know the record inside and out this is the Supreme Court, Matt. We need all hands-on-deck. I need other people to help me get some perspective and draft some of the sections.”</p><p>“Of course I’ll help, Jack. Anything you need. If you want me to proof sections or whatever. But, I think – Connor has a smaller case load than the rest of us, and he’s experienced in writing appellate briefs. He probably can be caught up on the record in a few days and give you the support you’re really looking for.”</p><p>Jack sighs and knuckles at his eyes. He knows that it’s the right move. McDavid’s a great writer and is succinct in a way that Jack could only dream to be. They could really balance each other out in the brief. Fuck. “Yeah, I’ll ask him. Maybe you want to proof my new draft this weekend?”</p><p>“I’d love to,” Matt agrees easily.</p><p>Connor looks a little bewildered when Jack knocks on his office door. They haven’t really spoken that much since they had that conversation that Friday that started friendly but spiraled out of control. “Hey, uh do you have a minute?”</p><p>“Sure,” Connor says staring right through Jack. “Come in.”</p><p>Jack does, shutting the door softly behind him. “I – so the new briefing for my case that’s up in front of the Supreme Court is kind of a monster. I have so much information and only so many pages, and I really – I need your help. This needs to be great.”</p><p>He can see Connor’s jaw work slowly, “Did you just ask me for help?”</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes but keeps steadfast, “Look, this brief is everything to me, and I’m man enough to say I can’t go at this alone. I want you to work with me on this,”</p><p>“Shit, Jack, of course, I—”</p><p>“Great, I have boxes of shit that will get you up to speed on what we’re dealing with—”</p><p>“Jack,” Connor interrupts him smiling brightly at him, “We’re going to be a great team.”</p><p>Jack smiles back despite himself, “Yeah.”</p><p>So he and Connor head into the trenches. When you’re presenting a brief to the United States Supreme Court, every word matters. Every word must have a purpose. Every argument must be precise and presented in the most cogent way possible. Your work has to be as flawless as it can be.</p><p>They’re both opinionated with years of different legal experience between them, so they spend most of their time arguing about the structure of the brief, where to put what piece, which arguments they think need to be presented first in order to really pop off the page. And, they also spend time arguing about commas and periods and sub-headings like two over-zealous Law Review editors.</p><p>The thing is, Jack doesn’t think he could have found a better partner. Connor’s writing is precise and eloquent without being flashy. He reigns Jack in when he gets wed to idiom usage and block quotes just because they sound good. He’s always circling back to their main arguments and the bullet points they need to address. Jack balances that with a little bit more pizazz. He’s able to present an argument in a way that addresses its nuance but makes it sound as simple and natural as possible; he knows how to cut to the heart of the issue.</p><p>Not only that, where a lot of the guys tend to back down when Jack gets hot about a legal issue and just let him go with it because of his success rate, Connor challenges him. He wants him to explain his line of thinking in painstaking detail. He tries to expose every possible weakness.</p><p>“I’m just saying if we leave it there, it seems like we’re sandwiching our worst argument in between the best ones. It kind of gets buried there. I think they could certainly find for us on part II, but it just kind of gets lost after the first argument being so emotional? How can we present it in a way that gives it individual life?”</p><p>Jack pauses at that swiveling in his chair. “I just think it’s the most logical way to organize it – it’s how we did it at the state level, it’s how we did it in the cert petition—”</p><p>“Well you didn’t win at the state level, and there’s a reason they ask for new briefing after they accept the petition. We need to start thinking not about what we have done, but how we can do to make this foolproof.”</p><p>God, Connor’s starting to sound like the logical side of Jack’s brain now, and it’s bizarre. “Okay, point taken, so what do you want to do with it?”</p><p>“I say we just move those sections and make two separate drafts, one with the original order and one with the new order and see if it makes the difference I think it will.”</p><p>“Couldn’t hurt,” Jack concedes. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>As much as it is about having the right argument, if you don’t present that argument in a way that makes sense and gets the justices on your side, you’re never going to get a ruling for you at the Supreme Court. If the justices have to do mental gymnastics to figure out where you’re trying to go, even if you have the right facts and law to win, there’s a good possibility the argument is going to get buried under the bullshit. You don’t have room for error when you’re presenting at the Court of Last Resort, especially here, because if they don’t win, Dean’s going to die in prison, and Jack’s not letting that happen without giving it all he has.</p><p>So that means between their individual caseloads, Connor and Jack are spending 99% of their evenings pouring over the record trying to find any and every last detail that can get them the win. It happens slowly enough that Jack doesn’t really notice it, but they begin to orbit each other. While it used to be Jack who was the first one in the office most mornings and the last one to leave, Connor’s now there too, looking bleary-eyed but present at 5:30AM all the way to whenever they call uncle early the next morning. He’s doing more than just giving Jack feedback and giving him a sounding board, he’s made this case his own.</p><p>Jack knows what he needs to do, “Case,” he approaches his paralegal one day when Connor’s in court. “Can you draft a notice of appearance and make Connor the second attorney of record in <em>Thompson</em>?”</p><p>Casey looks up at him startled because he knows the entire office probably knows things were off for a while between them, and they all know Connor’s time slumming it is temporary. “Sure, Jack. When do you need it by?”</p><p>Jack shrugs, “In the next few days. Just e-mail it to me when you’re done, and I’ll look it over and have him sign it.”</p><p>Casey mock salutes him, “You got it. I live to serve.”</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes, but he’s more fond than anything. He hopes in a few years when Casey finally takes the plunge and goes to law school, he’ll come back to them afterward. “Do your work.”</p><p>As the filing deadline draws nearer, Connor sets up a war room in the conference room. Apparently, he’s a big white board guy and has lists and diagrams cluttering both white boards on adjacent walls.</p><p>They’ve been arguing about a footnote for almost an hour when Jack looks up and realizes it’s almost 10:30PM and neither of them have had dinner. “We should maybe table this for now and get some food and rest. This will be here tomorrow for us to deal with.”</p><p>Connor nods, “I guess the time got away from us.” He gets up to move but turns back, “I have some other case notes to go over for this discovery motion I have going on Wednesday, so I’m going to hang out a while. I’ll see you tomorrow?”</p><p>Jack shakes his head. Jack can’t believe the certified workaholic in him wants to see this guy take a break. “At least get a late dinner with me so I know you’ve fed yourself, okay? Tavares will truly murder me if I kill you.”</p><p>Connor blinks hesitating, “I dunno, I really have work that needs—”</p><p>“C’mon, I’ll even buy as a thanks for helping me out so much over the last month or so,” Jack insists.</p><p>“Well,” Connor says smiling sheepishly. “Reino says you’re notoriously cheap so if you’re buying, I guess I better take my chance while I have it.”</p><p>“I’m frugal,” Jack insists. “Sammy just wouldn’t know good money management if it bit him in the ass.”</p><p>They go to one of Jack’s favorite greasy spots down the street. He hasn’t been there in a while, but the hostess still remembers him from his first year in Buffalo when he was still crashing in Matt and Alicia’s guest room, trying to make them think he had a life, so they’d lay off him to socialize more and make friends that weren’t other lawyers or clients.</p><p>“You’re young and single,” Matt would tell him. “You should still be having fun. Stop taking yourself so seriously.”</p><p>It took Jack a while to open up about Noah, about how it was hard for him to let anyone in after that, because no one deserved to be compared to Noah and, honestly, no one ever could. After his confession, Matt’s barely mentioned it since, but Jack knows that they still worry about him – worry that he’s going to spend his life giving all of himself to clients and clinging to the memories of his dead childhood sweetheart.</p><p>The thing is Jack knows he could date. He’s not like great looking or anything from the neck up, but he’s got a nice body, he’s personable enough, and he’s not a bad person to be around. A lot of guys, he thinks, would be into that. But, Jack just doesn’t have the energy to put into meeting someone, and honestly, loving someone. Jack only has a finite number of hours in each day and a finite amount of energy to spend, and he just wants to spend it on his work. He wants to spend it helping people who can’t help themselves. And Matt’s right that it won’t keep him warm at night, but he feels fulfilled. It’s not like he’s out there pining for someone to love him. He’s happy with the way his life is, even if it doesn’t look like most other people’s.</p><p>“Hey, I just wanted to say—” Connor breaks his concentration when the waitress brings their beers back. He’s got the first two buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up, cuff links tucked away into his pants’ pocket. “Look, I’m sorry for whatever happened that one night. I didn’t—I was having a shit week and an existential crisis of my own, and I really didn’t mean to drag you into it.”</p><p>Jack blinks at him. Of course he knows what he’s talking about, but Jack had figured that they weren’t going to talk about it. “It’s cool, man. I know how hard this job can be sometimes—not everyone has the stomach for it at all times.”</p><p>Connor nods considering, “And uh, for what it’s worth I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. I can’t imagine losing someone like that, especially so young.”</p><p>Jack really doesn’t want to talk about it again, but he does appreciate Connor’s sentiment. “Thanks.”</p><p>They sit in silence for a few minutes both decompressing a bit from their respective days. “Hey, isn’t it weird that like we’ve been working together for months and you know all that shit about me, but I don’t know a thing about you?”</p><p>Connor shrugs eyes darting down. “You never asked.”</p><p>Jack frowns, and he knows he’s not known to be the friendliest, but he’s pretty good at making friends once he picks who he likes. “That’s fair. But, I’m asking now?”</p><p>Connor smiles at that, “What do you want to know?”</p><p>“I dunno man, where are you even from?”</p><p>“The GTA—”</p><p>Jack smirks.</p><p>“I know a Canadian cliché, but it’s the truth. I grew up in Newmarket, Ontario, which is a little less than a 40-minute drive to downtown Toronto.”</p><p>Jack nods, “Nice place to grow up?”</p><p>Connor nods, “Yeah, kind of the quintessential suburban life. It was fine, and we were comfortable. Both my brother and I got to play hockey growing up, and I always felt like there was no need that I could have that my parents couldn’t meet, y’know? We were just able to be kids, and I guess seeing some of the young guys that come through our office, it really puts it into perspective how much I didn’t appreciate that.</p><p>How about you? South Boston, right? How’d you get out to Michigan for school?”</p><p>Jack laughs, “Ironically, enough, hockey. Noah and I met at hockey camp actually when we were like 9. And, we promised each other we’d play at some big NCAA hockey program together. I worked my ass off to get there. It was hard, being the poor kid in every locker room, but yeah, now that I’m older and I have more perspective, I realize that even though we didn’t have money for new skates and gear every time I outgrew things, I had parents who loved me. I had a home to come home to each night. I never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from or anything like that. While it wasn’t easy, I had so many advantages other kids would dream of having.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s like you really can’t understand the real poverty that exists out there until you see how it can destroy people's lives,” Connor comments slowly.</p><p>Jack swallows looking away. He didn’t mean to accidently steer the conversation here, but he has his opportunity. “I’ve been – I mean wondering isn’t really the right word because I really haven’t been thinking that critically about it – but after that night, I just wondered – why did you become a lawyer?”</p><p>Connor shrugs uneasily avoiding Jack’s gaze. “Uh, that’s a question I’m constantly looking to answer myself. The easiest thing to say is that it just made sense for me? Like, look, I went to boarding school when I was 15. I was a year younger than everyone else, and there was just so much pressure for my entire life to use my ‘talents.’ I started winning mock trial tournaments when I was like 10, and it just kind of seemed to everyone like it was just a foregone conclusion that I’d be an attorney.”</p><p>That makes Jack pause for a minute trying to find the right words. “But what did you want to be?”</p><p>Connor shrugs again looking truly, truly uncomfortable, more uncomfortable in front of Jack than he has been since that first day. “I guess I never thought about it. It never seemed like it was my choice.”</p><p>“Of course it was your choice!”</p><p>“Look, Jack, I mean my parents are amazing, great people, but it was like – sometimes it felt like they didn’t see me, y’know? They just saw the test scores and the aptitude tests and the blue ribbons. They felt like they had to do everything in their power to nurture that intelligence, that it was their duty or something, and sometimes it didn’t really feel like I was their kid. I was just this like brain. They didn’t even realize they were putting pressure on me because from their point of view they were just giving me opportunities to develop myself and succeed and be the best at all these things. But, it was exhausting, and sometimes I just wanted to be a kid, and I didn’t know how. So, I guess I don’t really know why I became a lawyer, but it’s probably because that’s what everyone decided I needed to be.”</p><p>“Wow,” Jack says blowing out a breath. “That’s fucked up.”</p><p>“It’s—”</p><p>“No, sorry, I just mean—” Jack starts but he feels like Connor shared something very intimate with him, and he needs to support him. “You know that no matter where you’ve come from or where you’ve been, you can choose a new path. You don’t have to be a lawyer.”</p><p>“It’s not that I don’t want to be a lawyer,” Connor says at once. “I mean I’m good at it, right? But, I see you and Sam and everyone else, and this is like your passion. Your clients are everything to you.”</p><p>“That’s not the only way to be a lawyer, Connor. Not everyone needs to be as crazy as us.”</p><p>Connor sighs heavily, “I mean I guess I know that intellectually. But, it’s just like I want to feel like – I want to feel like I own my career, and it doesn’t own me. Because for my entire life, I’ve never felt like I had any control over the things I did. Fuck, I don’t even know who I am because this is who I was programed to be. Like who am I actually?”</p><p>It’s dark, but Jack thinks he’s finally starting to understand the real person behind Connor’s perfect Ivy League, golden-boy façade. Jack finally understands why Tavares sent him down here. “Y’know, it’s okay not to know. Fuck, I barely know what I’m doing at least 3/4s of the time, and the more I do know the more I realize I have no fucking clue. It’s okay to be human, Connor – to not be perfect – to not be the person other people want you to be.”</p><p>“I don’t know how to let go of those expectations. I’ve been chasing that since I went to University, and I’m tired of it.”</p><p>Jack frowns, “I don’t have the answer man, but maybe you also need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself to have the answers.”</p><p>Connor lets it drop then and they shift conversation to gossip about Jeff’s newest and craziest girlfriend. He met her at the Y minding his own business, and the whole situation is so innocent Jeff, Jack can barely stand it.</p><p>Dinner’s nice, the weird serious conversation in the middle not-with-standing. It’s been a while since Jack’s let himself have a night off to just relax and get his mind off of work. And maybe Matt’s right, he needs to think a little bit more about his own mental health, even when it’s easier to ignore it.</p><p>The city bus stops right in front of Jack’s apartment building, so usually when he doesn’t have to be anywhere but the courthouse and the office, like today, he just takes the bus. He’s fine getting home, but of course Connor insists on dropping him off at home.</p><p>“Please,” he says when Jack protests. “it’s not far out of the way.”</p><p>It kind of gets tense in a way that Jack really doesn’t understand when Connor pulls in front of his building. And, maybe Jack’s an idiot, and he can’t read the signs, or at least that’s what Matt will say when he tells him about it later, but he honestly doesn’t see it coming when Connor puts the car in park, leans towards Jack, and says in that quiet voice of his, “Please tell me I’m not reading this wrong.”</p><p>Jack doesn’t even have time to process it before Connor closes the space between them and kisses Jack, slow and apprehensive.</p><p>Jack jerks away on reflex completely startled.</p><p>“Fuck, I just ruined everything, didn’t I?” Connor says bopping his head against the steering wheel with an audible thump. “I’m such an idiot.”</p><p>“No,” Jack says, but he doesn’t really know. And he truly doesn’t know what makes him lay his hand over one of Connor’s on the center console and ask, “You want to come up?”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Connor asks apprehensively gripping Jack’s hand back. “We don’t—”</p><p>He’s not sure about anything. “I’m sure, c’mon.”</p><p>It’s been a while for Jack, he’s not going to lie. He’s been so busy with work over the last few months that picking up just seemed like a waste of valuable seconds he could be working, sleeping, or eating. And, honestly, he can’t even remember the last time he hooked up with someone he really knew, at least not someone who’s as complicated as Connor.</p><p>Jack knows there’s a million reasons why they shouldn’t sleep together. They work together, for one, and not only that they’re working on the most important case of Jack’s career together, and he really can’t afford to fuck with their dynamic because it’s been working so well. But, all of that is so far from Jack’s mind as he leads Connor into his apartment and offers him a glass of water. Maybe, it’s the raw and honest conversation they had earlier, and the way he preached to Connor that he has to do things for himself – do things because he wants to, and Jack? Jack wants to do this. So, he thinks "fuck it," and leaves future Jack to deal with the consequences.</p><p>Jack startles awake the next morning to Connor’s phone alarm buzzing. “Turn it off, for the love of god,” Jack whines in Connor's ear from where he’s spooned behind him.</p><p>Jack can’t see him but he knows he’s rolling his eyes as his shifts and hits Jack lightly in the stomach, “Let me up then.”</p><p>Jack lets him up albeit reluctantly but snuggles sleepily into the warm space he left as Connor tries to locate his pants with his phone in them.</p><p> Jack must doze back off because the next thing he remembers Connor’s fully clothed standing over him gently running his hand through Jack’s curls. “Jack, hey, I’m going to take off—”</p><p>Jack squints at him and sits up so he can glance at the clock on his nightstand, “It’s 4AM McDavid, I didn’t take you for a fuck and run kinda guy.”</p><p>Connor turns bright red, “I – uh – I go to the gym every day at this time.”</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes, “Of course you do. C’mon—” he insists pulling Connor onto the bed, “Live a little. We were up late last night, and my alarm’s going to go off in an hour. You can go do pushups or whatever then.”</p><p>“Fine,” Connor relents easily unbuttoning his pants and tossing them to the floor. “Just this once though, okay?”</p><p>Jack laughs, “Sure.”</p><p>Jack’s not surprised per se that nothing really shifts in his life after that. He and Connor keep digging into the <em>Thompson</em> brief between all the other craziness in the office. He continues to have hard days, days where he wonders if he’ll ever get to crack this broken system open for the entire world to see what it’s doing to people every single day.</p><p>He drives out to Auburn and Attica. He argues with the DA and her ADAs. He wins some cases, some appeals, and some parole hearings, and he loses too – more than he’d like, always. But he and his clients keep battling.</p><p>The only difference is now he has someone. Someone who's there for him at the end of the day. Someone who wakes him up in the morning with a kiss on the lips but won’t do anything else until he brushes his teeth. Someone who makes fun of him singing in the shower. Someone who stocks candy in his pantry at all times even though he doesn't eat processed sugar and thinks it's totally killing Jack slowly, just because Jack needs a gummy worm after a hard day, okay. Someone who calls him on his bullshit when he needs it. Someone who’s just there.</p><p>Jack’s never felt like there was something missing in his life, and when he said he was happy with his life before, he truly, truly was. He was satisfied with where he was at, and he loved his life. But, Connor fills holes and gaps and tiny little crevices that he didn’t even know that he had. He pushes him at work, sure. He’s made him a better attorney, absolutely. But outside of work? Connor’s settled Jack. He’s made him feel truly comfortable and stable, where he didn’t fear everything being ripped from underneath him at the drop of a hat, for the first time in a long time, and if he’s being honest, for the first time since Noah was left for dead on that Ann Arbor street all those years ago.</p><p>The day finally comes for them to file the brief, and Jack thinks this must be what it feels like to raise a child or something. He’s exhausted – that bone deep tired that probably won’t ever go away, but he’s so fucking proud of what they’ve done.</p><p>“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Connor says hooking his chin over Jack’s shoulder as he gets everything set to efile.</p><p>“Us,” Jack corrects. “This was a team effort, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”</p><p>“Yes, you could have,” Connor assures kissing Jack on the cheek and backing away so Jack can double check everything before he clicks submit.</p><p>“Maybe, I could have. But it was a stronger submission because of your input.” He takes a deep breath, double checks that it’s the full brief and the page numbers are in the right font and hesitates only slightly before he submits it. “Fuck, I guess we’ll just need to read the state’s submission and the amici, and then get started on prepping for the oral argument. Damn, Connor – I’m going to argue in front of the Supreme Court—” he pauses and just breathes for a minute. “I feel like it’s kind of setting in.”</p><p>“C’mon,” Connor says nodding towards the door. “It’s getting late anyway. Let’s take the rest of the night off, get dinner, and celebrate this.”</p><p>“Hey,” Jack stops gonna grasping one of Connor's hands between his own. “Seriously, though. Thank you for your help, and y’know for taking my crazy seriously. I needed you.”</p><p>“C’mon, I’m gonna get a big head,” Connor laughs cupping Jack’s cheek. “But, you’re welcome, and I know you’re not free with the compliments, so it means a lot coming from you.”</p><p>Life kind of goes into overdrive after that. Jack has three trials back-to-back, including a grueling re-trial in the Bronx of two 15-year-old kids facing potential life sentences for murder, weapons charges, and kidnapping, a true trifecta. It’s one of those cases with bad facts, the kind of facts that as a defense attorney, you read and you feel slightly defeated. The kid, Marco, who he represents barely grazes Jack’s shoulder, but he’s been fighting his entire life, and Jack knows that the prosecution has so much to work with.</p><p>Jack has mixed feelings over plea deals. He thinks a lot of people end up doing time for crimes that they either didn’t commit or were less culpable for, or whatever because they took a plea deal out of fear of trial. But, at the same time, plea deals can save a defendant and a victim from sitting through a long grueling trial, just to be stuck with the whim of a jury, 12 random individuals.</p><p>He thinks the main problems with plea deals aren’t their existence, but the lawyers who use them. It’s the prosecution trying to get a “W” when they don’t have enough evidence or a weak case. They use them as intimidation, as a way to say “take this deal or we’ll be trying you and asking for the maximum sentence and then it’s just jury roulette.” And it’s not just the prosecutors, it’s lazy or overworked defense attorneys who don’t want to go to trial or don’t have the time to try the case. It’s defense attorneys who don’t listen to their clients and can’t adequately know what the best decision for them would be. It’s defense attorneys who don’t take the time to educate their clients on their options and what the pros and cons of taking a plea are</p><p>But, this specific case had a pretty good deal on the table. With the gruesome nature of his client’s crimes and other circumstances of the offense, it was really all they could have hoped for. Of course, it didn’t come free; the DA asked him to testify against his co-defendant, and the kid wanted to stay loyal. He was also concerned about retributive action against his family, if he snitched. It’s something that Jack’s heard a lot over the years, and he hasn’t found a way to really talk someone out of it.</p><p>At the end of the day, it’s the client’s choice whether to take a deal or stand trial. Jack can only offer his opinion and advice, and the client needs to use his best judgment. It’s just hard to watch a 15-year-old kid make a decision that will affect the rest of his life.</p><p>They recess for the weekend, and Jack heads back to Buffalo to recharge and sleep in his own bed. He’s bone-tired when he gets home, and all he’s able to do is brush his teeth before he passes the fuck out for 12 hours.</p><p>He wakes up in the early afternoon to the buzzer at his apartment’s door. At first, he just rolls over and ignores it, but the solicitor and whoever won’t give it the fuck up.</p><p>“What?” he basically barks into the intercom when he finally shuffles out of bed.</p><p>“It’s me?” Connor’s voice comes over the speaker sounding scared and staticky.</p><p>Jack just buzzes him in and moves back towards the bed. He feels like he could still sleep for several more hours.</p><p>“Jack?” Connor says opening and closing the door to Jack’s apartment.</p><p>“In the bedroom!” Jack shouts back rolling onto his back.</p><p>Connor stops in the doorway and stares, “Are you sleeping?”</p><p>“Yep—”</p><p>“It’s just,” Connor explains hastily cutting him off. “I hadn’t heard from you, and then I went to work and you weren’t there, and like did your phone die because it goes straight to voicemail?”</p><p>“Chill,” Jack placates slowly. “I’ve had a rough week, and when I finally got home last night I passed out. I’m just taking the day off.”</p><p>Connor looks at him like he’s grown another head, “Just? Just? When’s the last time you took a Saturday off?”</p><p>“Well,” Jack sighs yawning slightly. “I—” and when he starts to think about it, maybe Connor has a point. “Okay, fair, but I’m emotionally exhausted.”</p><p>“That bad?”</p><p>“I mean, a murder trial is always draining, but when it’s a kid? Makes it even worse,” Jack explains.</p><p>Connor comes and sits on the foot of Jack’s bed, and Jack really doesn’t know what it is, but everything just starts spilling out of him all at once – all the frustration, the fear, and even some apprehension oozing out of him as fast as it can all escape.</p><p>When Jack finally trails off, Connor looks at him blinking hard before looking away. “Can I ask you something?”</p><p>Jack nods sitting up scooting closer to him.</p><p>“How do you – deal with, or I dunno rectify the question of guilt or innocence?”</p><p>Jack blinks at him. He doesn’t know what he expected Connor to ask, but that wasn’t it. He thinks about it for a minute because it’s a fair question that deserves an honest answer. “It’s not about guilt or innocence for me, really. The system, right, it’s the system that’s supposed to pursue the truth, and then ‘justice’ based on that truth. But, I feel like that’s been blurred. It’s rarely about the truth. It’s about ego. It’s about winning and losing. I don’t believe in that.</p><p>Do I believe that many of my clients are culpable for their crimes? Absolutely. But, everyone no matter how guilty, deserves for someone to present a defense on his behalf. Everyone deserves someone to care about his case and dig into it and present it to the jury in the light most favorable to him. There’s two sides to every story, Connor. I truly believe that, and just because someone’s guilty doesn’t mean they deserve to be treated less than anyone else. Maybe that makes me a bleeding heart or whatever, but no one deserves to be reduced to the worst thing they’ve ever done. No one has a single story. So, for me it’s about finding solutions and proportional sentences for my clients, and giving them the support they need to turn it around, y’know?”</p><p>“So, you don’t care that Marco and his friend took that girl from her home, shot her, and left her for dead on a city street? That’s not important to you?” Connor asks slowly but incredulously.</p><p>“I feel for the victim’s family. No one deserves what happened to that girl. No one. What happened to her was horrible. It’s not excusable, not in anyway. But, it’s not my job to judge innocence or play judge and jury. My job is to understand the crime from my client’s point of view and understand how to present that to the jury, and hope that it helps them come to the correct verdict whether that be manslaughter or murder, and then give him a sentence that’s proportional to that.”</p><p>Connor nods, and Jack can see when a few stray tears slip down his cheek.</p><p>Jack just thumbs at his cheek wiping them away but doesn’t feel like it’s a good idea to say anything. Jack doesn’t know what’s going on, if he agrees or disagrees with Jack’s take or if he’s just confronting his own feelings about the criminal justice system. It’s kind of a follow-up to that first conversation that they had that late night at the office, but so many months have shifted their reality entirely.</p><p>“Wanna take a nap?” Jack asks after the tears begin to slow.</p><p>Connor just nods and lets Jack pull him down against him and hold him tight.</p><p>They both go back to their busy lives and leave the philosophical questions about their jobs in the past. Jack really barely thinks about it again, other than to worry that maybe all of this stuff is too much for Connor. Maybe Jack did actually break him, like Matt suggested. He really didn’t mean to.</p><p>He and Connor still spend hours each day after everyone else goes home on prepping the oral argument for <em>Thompson</em>, and with each passing day and sentence they decide to include it feels more real that in a few months Jack’s going to present it in front of the nine justices.</p><p>He spends all day at Attica meeting with clients on a Friday, and normally he’d maybe head to the office for a few hours when he gets back, but he’s bone-tired and just needs a little mental break to get some space between him and his oral argument. Sometimes leaving it for a while really refreshes his headspace, and he’s able to refocus and find holes that he wasn’t able to see before.</p><p>He grabs wings from Connor’s favorite local spot on his way because he’s considerate like that, but also, they haven’t seen each other in a few days between court appearances and prison visits. Connor’s trial should have finished today though, so maybe that’s why Jack’s going over there. He just wants to make sure Connor’s okay, unsure how he’d react to any verdict for or against his client.</p><p>When he lets himself into Connor’s apartment it looks like a bomb went off. There’s boxes everywhere, and while he’s kind of a minimalist and didn’t bring that much from Edmonton, it looks like everything he has is now in his foyer and living room.</p><p>“Connor?” he calls into the apartment.</p><p>“Hey,” Connor says peeking out over a box next to his couch. He takes the bag of food from Jack and pecks him on the lips easily. “Thanks, you going back to work after?”</p><p>“I don’t think so. Kinda tired—” he stops really looking around the place. “Are you going somewhere?”</p><p>“Um,” Connor says eloquently biting his lip and glancing down. Jack does not like the look on his face. “I was going to tell you, of course. But, I just got the call when the jury was deliberating this afternoon, and you weren’t in the office when I got back—”</p><p>“What?” Jack says on the wrong side of hard and impatient.</p><p>“Mr. Gretzky called – he’s the partner-in-charge at our Edmonton office, and they have this huge financials’ litigation case in the works, shaping up to be a billion-dollar lawsuit, and y’know, I’ve been here for more than a year, Jack. No one expected me to be here this long, and—"</p><p>Jack feels like he’s been dunked in ice-cold water and someone’s holding him down, and he can’t fucking breathe. “I just thought—” he cuts himself off. “Okay.”</p><p>“Jack—” Connor says reaching out to put a hand on Jack’s shoulder.</p><p>Jack just shrugs him off telling himself to not let Connor see the emotion that’s starting to build in his chest. He’s so fucking stupid to think that they had something and Connor changed. Connor’s never going to be more than a people pleasing Ivy League brat. Slumming it in public interest for a year didn’t have any effect on him in the slightest.</p><p>Connor sighs eyeing Jack before turning back to the less in his living room. “I – I gotta finish getting all this shit in boxes. The movers are coming tomorrow, and I have to start driving if I’m going to be in Edmonton on Monday. Do you want to eat now or after?”</p><p>“Actually, I’m going to go. Let you—” he waves his hands gesturing to the mess around them. “Finish whatever.”</p><p>“Jack—”</p><p>“I just thought—” he starts again but stops himself shaking his head turning towards the door.</p><p>“I’ll call you when I get to the hotel tomorrow night, okay? Check-in?”</p><p>Jack doesn’t turn back to look at him, but he can hear the hopefulness in Connor’s voice. Jack can’t believe this shit. “Don’t bother—”</p><p>“Jack—”</p><p>“I said don’t fucking bother, Connor.”</p><p>“Okay, fine. But, I’ll come out a few days before <em>Thompson</em>’s up to finish helping you prep, and then we can head to D.C.—”</p><p>“That’s okay,” Jack assures biting his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to bother.”</p><p>“I want to, really.”</p><p>“I seriously don’t give a fuck about what you want, this is my case, and I said I’m fine.”</p><p>“Jack—”</p><p>“I don’t need you, Connor. Have a nice life or whatever,” he mumbles as he slams the door of Connor’s apartment behind him.</p><p>He goes home and faceplants immediately into bed and wills himself not to cry. Even if the work wasn’t enough to make Connor stay, Jack surely thought somewhere in the back of his mind that Jack was enough. So, to find out to Connor that he was just as temporary as his job at the Center? Fuck, Jack doesn’t know what to do with that information. He thought that what they had was more important than that. He thought it was real.</p><p>Jack does the only thing that he knows how to do to deal with the constant dull pain in his chest after Connor goes back to Edmonton. He throws himself straight back into work. He takes a lot of Connor’s cases that weren’t disposed before he left, and he gets Matt and the rest of the office take turns giving him notes on his <em>Thompson</em> oral argument.</p><p>No one really says much about Connor, except a little in passing about his cases or wondering how he is back in Edmonton. It’s almost like he’d never been there, expect how there’s an empty office across from Jack's now and their file room is now color coordinated by offense and in precise alphabetical order. Except for when Sam talks about the two of them going to their college reunion together. Except when Tavares stops by from out of town and takes them all to dinner as a thanks for being kind and welcoming to Connor. The thing is, Jack’s life is entirely the same, but he just feels like his world has shifted on its axis. Like everything looks the same, but something about him is foundationally different. He hates it.</p><p>Jack just puts his head down and keeps pushing forward. He’s been through worse, much, much worse. He knows he’ll be fine. He knows a few years from now he’ll be able to hear Connor’s name without reeling.</p><p>The time finally comes for him to argue <em>Thompson</em>. He takes Casey with him for back-up, but mostly to inspire the kid. He knows Casey just needs to motivate himself to take the plunge, and Jack thinks seeing how far he can take his legal career may finally be the jolt he needs to apply to law schools. And, he kind of loves the kid like a little brother and wants him there during one of the biggest moments of Jack’s life.</p><p>Matt, Sam, Jeff, and Macy choose to come as well, which Jack didn’t really expect.</p><p>Matt scoffs when Jack protests, “C’mon Jacko – we’re all so proud of you, and of course we’re going to come and watch you do the thing. I think Mace will be live-tweeting updates to the rest of the staff.”</p><p>“You guys are too much,” Jack complains half-heartedly. “But, thanks. I – you don’t know how much I appreciate you guys.”</p><p>“I know no one’s going to be sitting second-chair, but you don’t need it Jack,” Matt assures and it’s the closest they’ve come to talking about the abruptness of Connor’s departure back to his real life and real career in Edmonton. “You have all of us behind you, and you’re going to be great. Enjoy the moment, kiddo.”</p><p>The night before, he finds himself pacing back and forth in his hotel room going over his argument again and again. Making mental notes about emphasis, and where he’s likely to get questions from the justices. He imagines different scenarios – a hot bench and an icy bench, confusion and doubt. He’s trying to stay calm, but he doesn’t really know how. Not only is this huge for Jack’s career, but if he doesn’t win this appeal, Dean’s going to die in prison. He has his life in his hands, and it’s not something that Jack’s ever taken lightly. He thinks about Dean’s mother and sisters and the trust and kindness they’ve shown Jack over the years. Even when through all the setbacks and denied motions, they’ve shown him nothing but faith and compassion. This argument isn’t about him, it’s about Dean and his family. He has to keep that in his mind. That’s his motivation.</p><p>A knock at his door breaks him out of his thoughts. If it’s Casey looking for singles for the vending machines, he’s going to throttle the kid.</p><p>It’s not Casey. “I quit my job,” Connor says in lieu of a greeting when Jack opens the door.</p><p>“Congrats,” Jack quips sarcastically trying to close the door on him, but Connor gets his foot in there before he’s able and wedges it open. Jack sighs and steps back to let him in. He doesn’t need this right now. He’s going to throw up.</p><p>“Fuck—” Connor mutters palming one of his eyes. “That’s not what I meant to say. I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so fucking sorry.”</p><p>“You’re forgiven,” Jack concedes easily because he needs Connor to get the fuck out. Now. “Listen, I have a big day tomorrow, and I just need—”</p><p>“I know, I’m sorry about that too. But, I just—” He breaks off, and Jack’s never wanted to punch him harder in the mouth. “You terrified me. Being with you fucking terrified me. And so when I got the call from Wayne calling me back to the firm and offering lead on this huge case, I took it and ran. I thought it would be easier like that.”</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes beginning to pace again, “Easier for whom?”</p><p>Connor sighs shaking his head, “Both of us? I don’t know. I didn’t know what I wanted. I’d see you and Sam and Matt and Jeff with your clients and your cases, and I felt like I could never have that passion. I don’t – you know I was struggling with what I believe in regarding that, and I—”</p><p>“No one said that you have to believe in what I do, or what Sam does or whatever. We all are at different points on the spectrum too. It’s not that complicated, Connor.” Jack spits back.</p><p>“I know, I know. I just thought that if I could go back to that job with lower moral stakes that I excelled at, I could find myself again, and I just. I realized I didn’t give a fuck about anything. The only thing I cared about was you, and so I realized that I don’t care what I’m doing, what job I have or whatever, if I have you.”</p><p>That – that wasn’t what Jack expected him to say. “What?”</p><p>“I think I’ve loved you since that first day when you made fun of my suit,” he confesses softly. “I love you.”</p><p>“You can’t. You don’t—” Jack starts because he feels absolutely blind-sided.</p><p>“Hey, don’t tell me what I feel, okay? I love you, and I’ve been struggling for years with who I wanted to be, and how to own my own identity when everyone else told me who I was and who I needed to be. And then you waltz into my life and tell me that I have my own agency. You tell me I get to choose, and I – that scared the shit out of me. Because I never wanted to choose, not really. I never wanted to have control over my own life because I was afraid to own my own success and failures. I was afraid of who I was under the guise that others created for me. I was afraid that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, nice enough.</p><p>You always made it sound so simple. Life was made up of a series of choices, and you get to take your own path. That was a reality that I didn’t want to face—”</p><p>Jack holds up a hand cutting him off, “I don’t know what you want from me.”</p><p>“Nothing, I’ve hurt you enough I know. I just – I dunno. It was selfish of me to come here. But, I just needed you to know this was about me and my issues and not about you.”</p><p>“Connor—” he starts but Connor apparently needs to keep talking.</p><p>“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I don’t know if I want to be a lawyer. I don’t know if the public or private sectors will ever fulfill me, but I realize that I don’t have to know right now. I can try new things and try to find myself. But, what I do know is that I can’t be me, I can’t be the person I want to be, without you in my life. I don’t care what I’m doing or where I am as long as you’re there too, chirping me mercilessly, working way too late and too hard, and getting on your soapbox about everything. That’s what I need, and all the other shit I’ll just figure out along the way.”</p><p>It’s a lot to process all at once, and Jack surprises himself when he feels the tears start to run down his face. It’s like he’s finally letting out all the shit he’s been keeping in since Connor left Buffalo. He crosses the room and crushes Connor in a hug, who reels back slightly before sinking into it. “You hurt me. A lot.”</p><p>“I know,” Connor acknowledges.</p><p>“I was right there. I don’t know why you couldn’t talk to me about all that shit. I don’t know why you chose to run, why you chose to toss me to the side as you ran me over on your way out of town,” Jack says sniffling into Connor’s shoulder.</p><p>“I wasn’t even capable for verbalizing any of that to myself, nevertheless another person. I wasn’t running from you, really. I was running from all the things in my life that had meaning. You were just number one on that list.”</p><p>Jack doesn’t think it’s smart to take Connor back so easily. But, he knows that the time everyone has to be with someone they love is finite. And he doesn’t want to look back on this moment years from now wondering what would have happened if he showed Connor compassion today. Life’s too short to hold onto grudges and regret, especially with those you love. At the end of the day, being upset and winning some kind of moral battle by standing your ground even when it hurts both of you is dumb when you never know when your time’s going to expire. There’s no do-overs, so why waste time when you can be happy with someone.</p><p>“I love you, too. Of course, I do,” he affirms slowly.</p><p>Connor sniffles too, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. It was unacceptable.”</p><p>Jack nods against him, “I don’t know if forgiveness is the right word. But, I acknowledge your apology, and I rather be happy with you, than miserable and righteous.”</p><p>Connor squeezes him once more before letting Jack go glancing down at the ground finally running out of things to confess.</p><p>“Hey, I kind of need a second-chair for my argument tomorrow. Know anyone good?”</p><p>Connor snaps his head up to look at him surprise bright in his eyes. “I think I may have someone. Newly unemployed, though.”</p><p>Jack laughs a little wetly before turning back to the note cards scattered on his hotel bed. “Well maybe I’ll give him a test drive before I decide by having him give me questions while I practice my oral argument one last time.”</p><p>Connor smiles at him sitting on the desk chair letting Jack post up in front of him. “I think he’s capable of that. He knows the record pretty well.”</p><p>“Thank you Mr. Chief Justice, and may it please the court. This case at its core is not about guilt nor innocence. It’s about proportionality. It’s about justice. It’s about Mr. Thompson’s right to a fair trial. The only plausible explanation of all the evidence compiled over the last several decades is that the State of New York never gave Mr. Thompson the opportunity to a present a full and valid defense in front of an unbiased jury of his peers—”</p><p>Connor smiles at him but digs in, “Counselor, if I may—”</p><p>Jack smiles back, and feels more confident than he has in weeks. He knows that he can do this, and that he has plenty of support along the way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this in a span of a few days, so mistakes are inevitable and undoubtedly present. Please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your feedback!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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